


Lucky Tooth

by Brynn_Jones



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dentist Cas, Dentistry, First Meetings, In a Foreign Country, M/M, Pre-Slash, Student Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynn_Jones/pseuds/Brynn_Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a patient with an infected wisdom tooth in a foreign country and Castiel is a dental emergency surgeon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Tooth

**Author's Note:**

> This is vaguely based on my experience with an infected wisdom tooth I had to have extracted this Christmas. I hope you enjoy the story despite its desperate lack of any real romance :)

Dean opened his eyes slowly, blinking the sleep from between his eyelids and shifting underneath the covers. He swallowed, getting a whiff of his morning breath in the process and almost gagged. It was a rancid sort of stench that Dean wasn't used to. He opened his mouth, flicking his tongue around in a futile attempt to get rid of the something-died-a-violent-death-in- my-mouth feeling, when a jolt of pain shot into his right jaw joint.

"Ouch," mumbled Dean as he fingered the side of his face, finding swollen tissue.

Ok, back the heck up, he thought, why was his jaw hurting?

Dean touched his tongue to his swollen cheek, searching for the cause of the sharp pain until he came upon the tender gum around his newly protruding molar.

The twenty-two-year-old groaned. That was just great. He was in a foreign city, somewhere in the middle of Europe and now he had to not only figure out where the dentist was, but also how to communicate with him when he didn't know a word of the local language.

He was in Prague as an exchange student with his biology program, studying at the famous Charles University, and he knew literally no one from his class. He didn't really know if the locals didn't like foreigners or if they just didn't like him but he had a hard time creating acquaintances, let alone friends.

Dean sighed, rolling out of his bed slowly and shuffling through the hall to the loo. He took care of his full bladder, splashed some cold water on his face and shuffled back to his bed. He pulled his school tablet into his lap and opened _Google translate_ , which had became his best friend over the past two months.

He typed in " _dental emergency centre_ " and came back with " _zubní pohotovostní centrum_ ", which he copied into the search engine, adding " _Praha_ " at the end.

He found three different dental centres and having no real information based on which he could decide between them, he picked one at random.

He clicked on the link and immediately saw a small map on the right which told him the centre was only a few streets away from Charles square, near to where his school was. Underneath the map was a telephone number in bold letters as well as some other information - also in bold.

After translation, it told Dean that the price for emergency treatment was 3,100 czech crowns, which was something over 120 dollars. That was a bit much, thought Dean, but it was necessary. Pulling out his phone, he dialed the number and held his breath. He really hoped the person who picked up would understand English.

"Pštrossova Medical Centrum," said a pleasant female voice, "jak vám mohu pomoci?"

"Uh... hello?" said Dean hesitantly.

The woman on the other side tittered - literally tittered. "Hello sir, how can I help you?" she asked with a strong Czech accent that Dean had got used to in the last two months.

"I have a problem... uh... my molar - you know, my wisdom tooth - is hurting a lot and my whole jaw is swollen."

"OK, dobře, sir. Are you American?"

Dean told her he was, impressed she guessed right.

"And you have a medical insurance?"

"Yeah."

"Good, I must give you some informations now. We have a really good surgeon here that is going to do the extraction. You must pay three thousand and one hundred crowns for the emergency but the operation is going to be paid by your insurance. Do you understand?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, ok."

"Dobře, good, and when can you come here? Is eight good?"

Dean turned his head to look at his alarm clock, it was five minutes to seven. "Yeah, that works. I'll be there."

"Good. And your name?"

"Dean, Dean Winchester."

"Good. You'll come at eight, good?"

"Yeah, thanks."

And with that, Dean hung up. The phone call actually went a lot better than he had thought it would. Now if only the actual dentist would speak to him in English as well, Dean didn't really feel like guessing what was happening in his mouth, especially if anaesthesia injections were involved.  
  
Dean once again climbed out of his bed, heading towards his bathroom to attempt brushing his teeth. It was actually a lot less painful than he expected, though his jaw made it difficult for him to open his mouth fully. His teeth clean, the young man then threw on some clothes, not bothering to match colours since he didn't have anyone to impress.  
  
After ten minutes, he was ready and - checking he had his phone, money and insurance card - Dean left his flat. He walked the few hundred metres to the closest tube station of line B and was on his way to the city centre. During the ride to the Charles Square station, Dean wasn't able to concentrate on reading on his tablet the way he usually did on his way to school. He was nervous since he didn't really know what it took to extract a molar. Would it hurt? Would it bleed a lot? What about the anaesthesia? And most importantly, would the dentist be nice?  
  
Don't get him wrong, Dean was no sissy but one thing that got to him was an insensitive doctor. Well, that and flying, but what sane person was ok with being thousands of metres above ground in a metal can with only a few millimetres thick walls?  
  
If that surgeon was going to be rude or harsh or even just irritable, Dean knew the experience was going to be-  
  
Oh, and he almost missed his stop. Dean quickly got off the train, then dragging his feet towards the escalators, he set on his way to the Pštrossova Street. He still had about twenty minutes until his appointment and the walk was only about seven to ten minutes, so he wasn't in a hurry.  
  
Once he found the correct house - it wasn't hard, there was a huge sign next to the door that said " _Medical Centre - zubařská pohotovost_ " - he pushed the door open and found himself in an old-fashioned entrance hall with a wooden front desk.  
  
"Dobrý den," said a woman behind the desk, who might or might not have been the girl he spoke to on the phone, "můžu vám pomoci?"  
  
Dean smiled at her. "Um, hi? I have an appointment with a dentist at eight?"  
  
The woman's professional smile froze on her face as she muttered to herself: "Sakra, to je ten cizák," before turning to him again, "uh, hello. The sister is waiting for you to have roentgen and the doctor will take your tooth after."  
  
It took Dean a few moments to discern what she said and by that time the girl went away, presumably to fetch the nurse to take him to the x-ray machine. Dean wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans just in time for the front desk girl and a light blue clad nurse to come into view.  
  
"Mr Winchester?" asked the nurse in a pleasant voice and a surprisingly good accent, though it sounded a bit Midwestern, "you can come with me now and I will x-ray that evil tooth for you, ok?"  
  
Dean felt like grinning at her but reconsidered because of his swollen jaw. "Sure," he said as he followed the nice nurse down the hall, then to the left and then into the x-ray room.  
  
The nurse told him to get rid of any metal objects he might have in the vicinity of his head - necklaces, piercings or earrings, so Dean took of his chin link necklace and put in on a chair near the door. The nurse then put a thick sort of vest - a protection from the radiation most likely - on him and moved to a nearby cupboard. Dean then watched as the woman took a little plastic rectangle out of a sterile packaging she found in a draw and attached it to the x-ray machine, right next to some sort of bent metal plate.  
  
"Ok, Mr Winchester, now you stand right here," she pointed in front of the bent metal, "put your head here and bite on this little plastic," she motioned towards the rectangle.  
  
Dean did as he was told, fitting his front teeth into a groove in the plastic.  
  
The instructions continued: "Now grin at me, come on, show me your teeth."  
  
Again, Dean did as he was told, though he felt a bit stupid doing it.  
  
The nurse moved to leave the room through a different door. "I will turn on the x-ray in the next room and the whole time it's going, you won't move, ok?" she said and not waiting for an answer, she left. Soon afterwards, the bent metal plate started moving around his head and Dean fought the impulse to watch it go around him with interest.  
  
After a few seconds, the machine stopped moving and the nurse came back, freeing him from the _radiationproof_ vest and handing him his necklace from the chair. "Now you can go upstairs to doctor Novak's surgery - it's on the fourth floor, at the end of the hall. Just sit in the waiting room and the doctor will call you in when he's ready for you," she told him with a smile and sent him on his way.  
  
Dean thanked her with a small smile and made his way over to the lifts, not feeling up to walking four flights of stairs with a pulsing wisdom tooth. He was alone in the lift, from which Dean refused to draw any conclusions about the number of patients waiting upstairs, and following the directions, he found the waiting room.  
  
There were two other people in the waiting room. A young girl, a student as well from the backpack she had with her, and a rather voluminous woman in her thirties that was clutching her left cheek, which Dean thought was a bit too theatrical. Sitting down opposite the girl, Dean looked around.  
  
The waiting room was actually very nice. The walls were painted a soft yellow and there were four large format photographs of bees in various situations - buzzing around a flower, flying in some sort of formation that must've been accidental, sitting on a honeycomb dripping with honey and the last picture showed a bee calmly sitting on a finger. Now, Dean was no fan of bees but even he had to admit the pictures were cute and kind of calming.  
  
The large woman pulled out a cloth handkerchief and proceeded to loudly blow her nose - an action Dean wouldn't attempt with a hurting tooth - before stuffing it back into her jacket pocket. What a joy. Dean turned his gaze towards the student, who was blankly staring back at him. Dean figured she didn't really see him as much as she saw through him.  
  
Five minutes of mindless staring, a nurse with very curly hair walked through the waiting room, coming from the way Dean suspected the toilets. She was about to leave the way Dean came from, when the handkerchief woman stopped her and mumbled something Dean couldn't hear nor understand.  
  
The nurse looked annoyed but she nodded and said: "Určitě. Když si chvíli počkáte."  
  
The bulbous woman agreed to whatever the nurse said and sat down next to the student. The trio spent another five minutes sitting in silence until Dean heard a door open from behind the corner.  
  
"Slečna Nečasová!" called a deep raspy voice from the direction of the surgery and the student opposite of Dean quickly rose and went to the surgery. Dean immediately felt less comfortable, being in the room alone with the sniffling woman.  
  
A minute later, another nurse came from the direction of the toilets, which was weird since Dean didn't see her go in, and another few minutes later, some short blond doctor came from the same direction and Dean was baffled. There must have been something else there other than the toilets for so many people to go through - either that or they were multiplying somewhere in there.  
  
A click of an opening door sounded again and the student left the surgery, walking quietly back through the waiting room and towards the lifts. Dean thought she could've at least said " _goodbye_ " or well, " _na shledanou_ ".  
  
It took another few minutes for the gritty voice from before to call out: "Pan Winchester!"  
  
Dean got up, walked to the door to the surgery and entered hesitantly. There was only one person inside, a tall man with shaggy dark hair and - once he turned around - bright blue eyes.  
  
"Dobrý den," said the doctor, his voice almost giving Dean shivers. Well damn.  
  
"Good morning," said Dean, smiling hopefully at the man. Please god, let him speak English.  
  
The doctor looked surprised but he immediately smiled back. "Good morning, come and sit down," he said in a perfect American accent, probably from somewhere around Boston.  
  
Dean sat down on the dentist chair, his movement making the plastic squeak a little. As soon as he was settled, the doctor was right next to him, plastic gloves on and a sympathetic smile on his face.  
  
"Let's have a look, shall we?" he said as he moved closer.  
  
Dean hummed quietly, opening his mouth as much as he could without wincing in pain - which wasn't much.  
  
The dentist was careful as he took Dean's jaw in hand and slowly pried his mouth more open, but Dean made a protesting noise anyway.  
  
"Shhh," the doctor shushed him, "I'm going to feel around for a bit, ok?"  
  
Dean hummed in agreement again. The surgeon then prodded at his infected molar and asked whether it hurt in regular intervals. Once he got to the back side of the tooth, Dean let out one of those weird sounds a person made when something hurt but they had to keep their mouth open.  
  
Now, it really did hurt - no question about that - but Dean might have exaggerated his pained response a little bit, for no apparent reason. The sound prompted the surgeon to caress Dean's cheek softly and mutter a quiet: "Shhh, it's ok, I'm sorry," which shouldn't have made Dean feel as much better as it did.  
  
Huh. That was curious. The doctor wasn't even really looking at him, his gaze focused on Dean's molar, so the caress must have been just a instinctive response.  
  
"All right," said the doctor, finally pulling his fingers out of Dean's mouth, "it is infected, we'll move on to the anaesthesia and pull the tooth out."  
  
Dean watched as the surgeon took a small syringe first, sticking on a bent sort of needle, before returning to Dean's side. "This will probably taste bitter but don't swallow anything, ok?"  
  
"Ok," Dean managed before opening his mouth again and letting the doctor spray whatever substance was in the syringe all over his molar. It must've been some sort of disinfectant.  
  
"Ok, you can spit," the doctor told him, "and I'll give you the anaesthetic. It shouldn't hurt, you'll just feel pressure. If it does hurt, tell me."  
  
Dean spit, glad to be rid of the taste in his mouth, before leaning back in the chair and opening his mouth again. The surgeon stepped closer again and slid the new syringe in. Dean felt it jabbing him in the roof of his mouth and then into the gum near the molar. It didn't hurt, so Dean made no stupid noises.  
  
"That wasn't too bad now, was it?" asked the doctor in a calm voice once it was done.  
  
Dean shook his head carefully as he closed him mouth, making a negative sound in his throat.  
  
"Good, now I can give you a packet of these to inject yourself at home every few hours, ok?"  
  
What the hell? Was he joking? Dean stared at the doctor for a beat, until he noticed the man's twitching lips and glittering eyes. He was joking, thank god.  
  
"I think I'll manage without, thanks," answered Dean and had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of doctor Novak's gummy smile.  
  
The surgeon then looked up and down Dean's body, settling on his lap. Dean looked down, ok, not his lap, his shaking hands.  
  
"Why are you afraid?" asked the dentist.  
  
"I'm not," denied Dean, "I think it's the adrenalin rush or something."  
  
The doctor nodded at that, then turned around, took a small slip of paper from his desk and handed it over to Dean. "While we're waiting for the anaesthesia to work, you can read the instructions. There's everything you should do after I pull the tooth out."  
  
Dean looked down from his doctors intense gaze and focused on the paper in his still shaking hands. It was written in Czech. Dean raised his eyebrow at the doctor who grinned back at him.  
  
"It says you shouldn't brush your teeth again today, you shouldn't rinse out your mouth or spit violently, so you don't dislodge the blood clot from the socket. Trust me, you don't want a dry socket, that hurts like hell.  
  
"Then, for the first three days, you should eat only soft or liquefied foods like yoghurts, baby food, mashed potatoes or soups. No hard bits like nuts or crisps that can get stuck in the blood clot and get infected. On top of that, you shouldn't exercise, drink alcohol or smoke."  
  
Dean kept nodding through the whole lecture, trying to match the doctor's words with the Czech sentences on his slip of paper. When they finished, Dean noticed his hands stopped shaking and his tooth stopped aching.  
  
The doctor noticed too. "Does it still hurt?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Great," said the surgeon, changing his gloves and taking a metal monstrosity from a silver plate that was next to the dentist chair, "let's pull it out then."  
  
Dean nodded again and opened his mouth.  
  
"Now you'll feel pressure, something like this," said the doctor and pressed his fist into Dean's upper arm. Hard, "you shouldn't feel any pain though."  
  
Dean hummed in acknowledgment as well as he could with his mouth wide open and closed his eyes. He didn't need to see his bloody tooth once it came out.  
  
Soon, he felt the pliers in his mouth, violently shoving around his tooth and underneath the gum. He then felt the pressure, a little worse than the demonstration on his arm, and heard a soft crunch. Then, without feeling any actual pulling motion, the tooth was out and a ball of gauze was shoved in its place.  
  
"Bite down on it," said the doctor, "leave it there for about half an hour before taking it out. It should stop bleeding by then."  
  
"Ok," mumbled Dean, not being able to feel his mouth at all.  
  
The doctor pressed the instructions paper in Dean's hand. "You're free to go, Mr Winchester," he said with a charming smile, "you can pay at the front desk downstairs."  
  
And another mumbled "ok" later, Dean left the sexy doctor behind, heading towards the lifts. There was no one in the waiting room, so he didn't have to say anything, and the lift was empty as well.  
  
He managed to pay for the surgery without actually speaking and soon enough, he was sitting on the tube home. Halfway to his destination, Dean pulled out the instructions paper out of his pocket, wanting to see if he'd be able to translate anything at all, when something caught his eye. On the other side of the paper was a handwritten note:  
  
_"Call me sometime,_  
          603 742 963  
                        Cas"


End file.
